“Seth material” search engine (Jane Roberts)

(By 8:59 Jane was a little nervous, but nothing like she used to be in earlier sessions. She had no idea of the subject matter for the session. Our cat Willy had become very frisky just before the session was due, as he has done lately, so to forestall interruptions Jane deposited him in another room.

If Ruburt will bear with me: He will benefit from your fairly objective ideas about the gallery, if you can bring yourself to discussing them objectively.

(It will be remembered that Seth stated an art gallery experience was in the cards for Jane many sessions ago—back somewhere in the beginning sessions. At the time Seth also said that had we settled in Miami, Florida, as we considered doing a few years ago, Jane would have worked in a gallery there. He gave some street locations with this information, but we did not try to check it out.)

The demand for greater, and if you will permit a personal opinion, sometimes needless attention to detail, he also construes as a hampering or further restriction, added upon the personal supervision that he is now under.

The rebellion is caused by the restrictions. He was more used to an independence of motion, and greater leeway in using his own judgment. The conflict arises because he tries to balance this, which grates against his grain, with the hope of, or against the hope of, future possibilities of gaining more independence, and using creative abilities in teaching the children’s classes.

Ruburt finds or considers this sort of position without responsibility, inferior and somewhat demeaning. He has always objected strenuously, on principle—

This, plus the new director’s implied sense of superiority, adds to the difficulty. He works best on a job when he is more or less left alone, in charge of given functions to perform, as when he acted as salesman. Although I am not suggesting a return to this for various reasons.

If he could operate in such a manner at the gallery in the plan that he outlined, things should go well.

I know it is almost time for your break. However, if you feel up to scribbling for me for a few more moments, I should like to add some more while Ruburt is letting me through, as I am not certain whether he would block me after the break or not.

In the past he stayed at the gallery despite some natural disadvantages, because of the independence which he enjoyed there, because of the commitment mentioned earlier, and because of innate interest in paintings which surrounded him. But the fair amount of independence allowed was the main point.

I am doing my best to help clear the basic situation so that at least you will know the reasons behind it, and perhaps you can help Ruburt make a decision accordingly. It is true also, as he knows, that the Florida incident frightened him enough so that he will not leave a job unless he is almost forced into it.

He would, perhaps, stick to a respect for small details if they were part of a creative concept, even perhaps the creative concept of another, as details are extremely respected by him in his poetry, where he transforms them into creative concept.

This is then the reason for our fuss, and since Ruburt did enjoy a certain independence in which he functioned well, he now feels deprived and angry. It will be difficult for me to say more, though this much should be a great help. Also, close or even fairly close supervision bothers Ruburt because of the constant closeness of his mother in space, during youth.

(Jane’s father, Delmer Roberts, had visited us a few weeks ago. He is a rover; Jane seldom sees him, and even on his visit from Florida Del stayed with us but a few days.

(Yes). He was friend.

(“In what country was he a friend?”)

(“The other night Seth said he didn’t know Thomas Voghler.”

He does not. I did not say he did.

(“Have you, Uarek, been with Seth when he has been with us?”)

Wait. (Pause.) He is not pleased.

(Then, I was directly above a parked car, an older type of sedan with a rounded gray roof. Looking down upon this car, I saw a wiry youngish man in a white shirt with the sleeves rolled above his elbows; hurriedly, he was circling the car, going all around it and peering into the windows. I could not see if the car was on a highway, in a driveway, or where.

(The man looked up at me. He appeared to see me, and to be not surprised at my position. He pointed at the car; I could not see into the windows.

(“There’s a man in there,” he said, “and there’s something wrong with him. I can’t get him out. The doors are locked...”

(My correspondent had thick brown hair, a slim muscular build, a wide generous worried mouth, a squarish jaw. Each time he spoke to me, I saw him all alone, as on a large milky-white screen. The screen cut him off at the waist, and was large in proportion to the size of the man. Each time he spoke, he seemed to lean into view on the screen from the lower right, and remained leaning somewhat as he spoke. My viewpoint had also lowered itself, though not to his level.